


Something Else Happened

by tcs1121



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-14 17:43:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20196181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tcs1121/pseuds/tcs1121
Summary: Summary:"Hey, you don't look so good. Somethin’ else happen?"Yeah, Dean, something else happened.





	Something Else Happened

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** Coda for _Mystery Spot_. Spoilers up through and including _Mystery Spot_.  
**Notes:** Special thanks to sunrize83 for her warm welcome and extraordinary beta help 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** These characters were created by Eric Kripke and do not belong to me. No money exchanges hands. All for fun.
> 
> Original posting date: April 27, 2008

**~~*~~*~~*~~**

**Something Else Happened**

**~~*~~*~~*~~**

Two headlights glared through the mist over the mountain tops. The big, black Chevy crested over the hill, sped down the dark deserted highway and suddenly locked her wheels. Steel-belted radials tore into the asphalt, and two sets of black rubber ribbons spread out behind her. The vehicle fishtailed off the road, bouncing several yards between the dark trees before jolting to a stop.

The driver opened the door hard enough to scrape the branches; brambles hissed along the metal, etching off thin lines of black paint. 

“Why did you wait ‘til now to tell me?” Dean slammed the door, stalked over to the passenger’s side window and leaned in. “Why’d you keep this to yourself? What the hell is wrong with you?” 

Sam had expected a reaction, but had hoped his brother wouldn’t be so dramatic. He breathed in through his nose and closed his eyes. “It didn't happen to you,” he said softly. “It happened to me.” 

“And that makes it okay? Shit, Sam!” Dean smacked the door. “How long?” He began pacing. The glow of the Impala’s headlights moved his shadows darkly against the tree trunks. “Dude, how long was I dead?” 

Sam locked his gaze on the glove box and gritted his teeth. “If I hadn't told you about the times you died…about the months you were gone, you wouldn't have even known.” 

“But you did tell me—two weeks later—and, well, now I know.”

“You weren't really dead, Dean!”

“I was to you.”

“Yeah.” Sam squeezed his hands into fists and nodded. “Yeah, you were dead to me.”

Dean walked around, licked his thumb and rubbed at the scratches on the door. “Months, huh?” His voice was low. “That…that must have been awful.” 

Sam got out and laced his fingers on the top of the car. The warm, damp air was giving up its heat, and cricket-calls mingled with the muffled light of a waning moon. He spoke carefully, explaining simply, “I didn't want to tell you because I didn’t want to relive it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow and waited.

Sam stared into the woods, wishing away the images of blood-soaked clothing, unblinking eyes and last good-byes. He shuddered in a breath, turned to him and said, “I was afraid that by giving the experience…by giving it words it would make it real.” 

“Huh.” Dean paused, apparently waiting for the punch line. That’s when Sam decided that the dark woods were easier to look at than his brother’s bright eyes.

Dean wiped his hands on his jeans and cracked a grin. “Well, you really should’ve told me. I mean, I was the star of the show.”

“It never happened.” Sam snapped. “No matter how real it felt, it was just an obscene prank. A fucking fake nightmare!” He slapped the top of the car with an open palm. “I don't want to talk about it. It's over. You're here, I’m here, and it's over. I don't know why I mentioned it. Let’s go.” 

Dean looked down and shrugged casually. “You kept hunting, though.” 

A wave of nausea washed over Sam as his manufactured past sparked to life. Darkness clouded over him and for a moment his vision went brown. He swallowed and turned toward his brother. “Yeah, Dean, I kept hunting. Some I stalked, waiting until I could look them in the eye before I killed them. Other times, I chased the bastards down and picked them off as fast as I could swing a blade or pull a trigger.” Chilled sweat dripped down his back, soaking his shirt. “Then I’d wake up the next morning and start the whole process all over again. The killing went on and on and on. That make you happy?” 

“I’m not _happy_…”

“Oh, I was all about the hunting.” Sam spat on the ground and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I kept the knives razor-sharp, every last one of them, every single night. I had so much salt on me that I was a walking heart attack. And the amount of holy water I stocked, I could serve it on tap.” Sam was breathing hard, trying to keep his dinner down. “All the guns, Dean, and I mean _all_ the guns, were oiled and shined and primed every day. I even had separate labeled cases made for each one.”

Dean looked bewildered as Sam continued.

“I rolled my toothpaste tube from the bottom; I tacked newspaper clippings in straight lines and at exact angles on the wall. I washed the motel’s water glasses, most times more than once, and I made the bed with sharp hospital corners.”

“So, you got a little anal…” Dean rolled his eyes and looked away.

“Wait, it gets better.” Sam rounded the front of the car, coming to stand toe to toe with his brother. He leaned into him and whispered harshly, “At night, I’d knock back a few belts of whisky, clean out the stab wounds, tape up the claw marks, dig out the bullets, then sew myself up with a quilting needle.”

Dean caught his breath, and looked into Sam’s unblinking eyes. “Shit, Sam,” he said softly. 

“’Shit,’ is right.” Sam nodded. “But the good new is…I get it now!” He pinned a smile on his face and said. “I finally understand why you made the deal.” 

“Sam…” Dean raised a hand in surrender.

Sam stared his brother down and growled, “I’m sorry I killed that crossroads bitch, ‘cause I'm about ready to make my own deal. Maybe Hell will go for a two fer.”

“Oh, God.” Dean turned away and pinched his nose. “Jesus, Sam, don't say that.” 

“It’s not looking like a life of fucking fun and frolic after you go to Hell, man. Hey, I figure it’s just a matter of time before I end up in the pit with you anyway, so let’s cut out the middleman!” Sam raised his arms, “It’s a fire sale, everything must go.”

Dean grabbed Sam’s collar spun him roughly, and jacked him against a tree. “Don't you say that,” he whispered harshly. “Don’t you ever say that!” He shoved Sam and took several steps backward. “Don’t you get it? Don’t you fucking get it? You gotta do better than I did, man.”

There was a tone to Dean’s voice that Sam didn’t recognize, but he waved him off, “I don’t want to hear it.”  
“I wasn't prepared when you died, Sam, and look where it got us!” 

Sam cocked his head. Dean’s eyes were wide, blazing. Sam thought of a caged wolf. The baring of teeth, stalking the perimeter, throwing back the head and howling, were all signs of the animal’s panic. He looked at his older brother and saw the wolf in his cage. But Sam held his gaze. 

Dean looked at sky, ran his tongue across his lips and exhaled. “One minute, you were there calling out to me, and the next minute—you were dead. It happened so fast, man. So fast. I couldn’t get my head around it. I was running on grief and anger when I hauled ass to the crossroads. But if I'd been thinking clearer, if I’d been on top of my game… I know I could’ve made a better deal. One that would have saved both of us. Fuck...” Dean paused, and passed his hand across his eyes. “It's not fair that you’ll have to go it alone. I couldn't live with you dead. I thought maybe you could...”

“Maybe _I_ could?” Sam was stunned. “Well, guess what, Einstein? I can’t. Not without becoming a freakin’ basket-case.” 

Sam stalked off a few feet, breathing unevenly.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I’m sorry I fucked up.” Dean came up behind him. “Just listen to me, will ya? Just listen. I mean, I know that _I_ should’ve stayed dead, but it didn’t occur to me ‘til now, that you…” Dean swallowed and shut his eyes, “…that maybe I should have let you go, Sammy. Maybe you should’ve stayed dead, too.” He looked up at Sam and smiled sadly. “Maybe that would’ve been…kinder.”

Sam’s eyes stung, and his throat clamped shut. He knew what it cost his brother to say that. “Shit, Dean. Shit.” He punched Dean lightly on the shoulder. 

“But I just couldn’t, man…I just couldn’t let you go.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Sam’s eyes were wet. “You’re a fucking idiot. Why do you think I took you to a healer, for Christ’s sake? A _healer?_ Was that the act of a sane and rational law-student? Why do you think I was all set to blow away a couple of housewife witches who were bleeding you from the inside out?” Tears dripped down Sam’s nose and off his chin. “After the crash, do you know what I did? I brought a fucking Ouija board to your bedside on the off chance that I could somehow talk you out of fucking dying! You fucking idiot. Of course I know.”

Sam sobbed once, hauled back and slammed his fist into the closest tree. Black bark embedded into his bruised knuckles. He reared back again, but Dean grabbed his arm. A soft breeze ruffled the leaves as clouds momentarily blocked the dying moon. The damp air had cooled around him, and Sam gave in to a shiver. 

“So…” Dean’s voice wavered as brushed the splinters off Sam’s fisted hand. “I guess you’re saying that sometimes dead things shouldn’t stay dead?”

Sam pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Dean agreed. “But Sam…” 

Sam looked up. The caged animal was gone, replaced by his solid, no-nonsense big brother. Dean’s eyes were no longer fearful, but tender and soft. And Sam was truly frightened.

“…I’m begging you, don’t do what I did. Just don’t do it. You’ve gotta stay here, man. You—you’re the last of the Winchesters. You’re the best part of who we were…who we are. My life has gotta mean something, and it won’t if you don’t survive this.” Dean’s breath caught ever so slightly as he said, “Please. Please tell me you’ll go on after I’m…” He pointed his finger down an imaginary road.

Sam opened his mouth, but there wasn’t any air. His head throbbed and his chest ached when he realized he was right. When you give a thing words, it does make it real. He covered his head with his hands. The urge to run was met with an even stronger urge to clasp his hands and fall reverently to his knees. 

Dean grasped his arms and turned to face him. “Sammy, do this for me.” His eyes were moist but clear, his voice was low and steady, “And I promise, I _promise_, if there’s anyway I can claw my way up and out, I will.”

Seeing the quiet plea in his brother’s eyes, Sam clenched his jaw. There really was only one thing he could do. Dean, with all his shit and swagger, asked very little of Sam. And, of course, Dean had already given everything he had for him. Sam pressed his lips together and nodded sadly. 

Dean nodded back, wiped his eyes and swiped his nose against his sleeve. “Okay. Good.”

When he turned, Sam cleared his throat, “Hey, Dean?”

“Yeah?” 

They were eye to eye. Sam reached out, hugged his brother and said softly, “I’m gonna miss you, man.” 

Dean’s shoulders hitched once. Suddenly, Sam felt like a six-year-old as Dean gently stroked his hair. _Don’t cry, Sammy. It’ll all be okay, you’ll see._

But it was a lie. The sun would rise, the night would fall, but only children believed in happily-ever-after. A world without his brother…no, it wouldn’t be okay. After a moment, Dean pulled back, patted Sam on the shoulder and tried to smile. 

The Impala’s ignition cranked to life, and a mournful roar filled the air. Condensation dripped from her headlights forming small dusty pools beneath her grill. Circling in a slow half turn, she carefully eased onto the road, coughed once, then purred down the straightaway, finally leaping out of sight.

~~END~~


End file.
